Steven's Diagnosis: Broken Neck: SCI
Donation protected
Ask anyone that knows him and they will tell you that Steven Loduha is a warrior and a fighter. For me personally one of the strongest people I know.
If you know him, you love him.
He spent 21 years in the Army deployed for more years than I would like to count to countries that weren’t always so happy we were there. He was shot at daily, hit by an IED, and Lord knows so many other things that go left unsaid, but always came home in one piece.
He is a survivor.
Whether he was out hunting, jet skiing, tinkering with something in the garage, or making my house project ideas come to life he was always active.
Until July 30th at 248PM.
I had to make the worst phone call I have ever had to make. As I lay there on the sandy shore next to my husband listening to the 911 dispatcher tell me that the EMTs were on their way our friends Steve starts chest compressions, Claudia performs the breaths, and Alicia sprints up to the road to flag the EMTs down.
What seems like hours was actually only minutes.
Finally we hear faint labored breaths from Steven as the EMTs arrive. The next thing I know is they have him in a neck brace and rolled on to a backboard with a helicopter waiting to life flight him out.
It all happened so fast, but so slow at the same time.
The rest is a blur. He leaves in the helicopter, a Park Ranger gets me back to camp and another to the Wenatchee hospital. I arrive just in time to see him before he goes to surgery to remove bones from his spinal cord and fuse C5-7.
Diagnosis: broken neck.
This is going to be a long night, and an even longer fight. His prognoses and expected recovery timeline are like a moving needle that we simply cannot seem to put our finger on.
We will get him stabilized with one more surgery in Wenatchee. Then off to Seattle for some aggressive physical therapy. It’s overwhelming to think about all the ways our life will change. His life is built on mobility. From the house we live in to the hobbies he enjoys and everything in between. The hospital bills alone, even with healthcare, are quickly mounting to numbers I can’t even fathom.
Nothing prepares you for this, nothing. Although the details of our future may be unclear I know my Steven and he is strong and determined. This is a plot twist but not the end of his story.
We are asking for your help to cover the costs of medical stays, rehabilitation facilities and daily activity modifications to transition his life into one that is different, but still his own.
If you know him, you love him.
He spent 21 years in the Army deployed for more years than I would like to count to countries that weren’t always so happy we were there. He was shot at daily, hit by an IED, and Lord knows so many other things that go left unsaid, but always came home in one piece.
He is a survivor.
Whether he was out hunting, jet skiing, tinkering with something in the garage, or making my house project ideas come to life he was always active.
Until July 30th at 248PM.
I had to make the worst phone call I have ever had to make. As I lay there on the sandy shore next to my husband listening to the 911 dispatcher tell me that the EMTs were on their way our friends Steve starts chest compressions, Claudia performs the breaths, and Alicia sprints up to the road to flag the EMTs down.
What seems like hours was actually only minutes.
Finally we hear faint labored breaths from Steven as the EMTs arrive. The next thing I know is they have him in a neck brace and rolled on to a backboard with a helicopter waiting to life flight him out.
It all happened so fast, but so slow at the same time.
The rest is a blur. He leaves in the helicopter, a Park Ranger gets me back to camp and another to the Wenatchee hospital. I arrive just in time to see him before he goes to surgery to remove bones from his spinal cord and fuse C5-7.
Diagnosis: broken neck.
This is going to be a long night, and an even longer fight. His prognoses and expected recovery timeline are like a moving needle that we simply cannot seem to put our finger on.
We will get him stabilized with one more surgery in Wenatchee. Then off to Seattle for some aggressive physical therapy. It’s overwhelming to think about all the ways our life will change. His life is built on mobility. From the house we live in to the hobbies he enjoys and everything in between. The hospital bills alone, even with healthcare, are quickly mounting to numbers I can’t even fathom.
Nothing prepares you for this, nothing. Although the details of our future may be unclear I know my Steven and he is strong and determined. This is a plot twist but not the end of his story.
We are asking for your help to cover the costs of medical stays, rehabilitation facilities and daily activity modifications to transition his life into one that is different, but still his own.
Organiser
Dawn Goedde Loduha
Organiser
Rochester, WA